Symbolizing the recovery is the “Survivor Tree” that grows on the premises, a pear tree that was nothing but a stump after the attacks.

But it was nursed back to health. And now, as the 9/11 Memorial brochure points out, the tree “embodies the resilience that is so important to the history of 9/11.”

Reverence at the Memorial was the order of the day, though.

I saw no vendors. You won’t be pressured to buy a souvenir or pose for a photo available to purchase.

I didn’t see any commercial exploitation. I can’t say it doesn’t exist, only that I didn’t see it.

There was also no one whose music needed to be turned down. Again, they might have been there, but I didn’t see them. I didn’t hear them.

Respect prevailed, thankfully.

I did see a little girl being allowed to crawl over the names of victims as she precariously approached the edge of the waterfall.

But she was stopped in her tracks by one of the many security officers who patrol the area, one who looked at the adult permitting the youngster to play where she shouldn’t and firmly said, “Sir, this is a memorial.”

Names of the nameless

Indeed, it is. Nearly 3,000 people lost their lives here.

And while you stare at the stark beauty of the two pools that serve as the footprints of the towers themselves, the impact is in the names.

They are etched in bronze around the two similar pools with their 30-foot waterfalls and center voids into which the water of the pools hauntingly disappears.

They are the names of those who lost their lives — in the buildings, on the planes or responding.

They are the names of the nameless for which I prayed with the priest in 2001.

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